


Burning from the Inside Out

by suganegg



Category: Gatchaman Crowds
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst and Porn, Dream Sex, M/M, Self-Hatred, Self-cest, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-22
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-07-18 23:50:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7335976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suganegg/pseuds/suganegg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joe has some strange dreams after his encounter with Berg-Katze (post-S1E7).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Burning from the Inside Out

**Author's Note:**

> partially inspired by "Pyres" by ao3 user bellmare. it's a really great fic, definitely a fave of mine for years! also, im so sorry for having to use an epithet throughout the entire fic, but it's really hard (and confusing) to write fic where the characters in it are the same person without using an epithet to refer to one of them.

The hands that rest on his hips are his own, and they travel slowly upward, over his waist, chest, and shoulders to cup his face.

“Look at me,” he hears in his own voice, but low and sultry.

Joe does as he's told, and turns his head to face his double and gaze into the same blue eyes that he sees in the mirror every morning. The double smiles, but it’s more of a mimicry of one; the expression doesn’t quite meet its eyes, and the smile is all lopsided and sinister, its teeth just a little too sharp.

“That’s right,” the double purrs, tilting its head down to nip at Joe’s lip. “This isn’t any fun if you don’t watch.”

The nipping turns into a kiss, the double forcefully shoving its tongue into Joe’s mouth. The kisses are hard and fast, all tongue and teeth and mashing of lips; Joe moans into it, his hands reaching out to grip the front of the double’s shirt. The double’s own hands resume wandering his body, groping and squeezing here and there against the hard planes of Joe’s muscles. Those hands slide across his sides and hips, down to palm at his half-hard dick through his jeans. Joe gasps at the sensation, breaking away from the kisses, while the double bemusedly applies more pressure.

“We’re this far along already, huh?” It drawls.

It doesn’t seem to mind, though, and removes itself from Joe’s grasp so that it can turn him around to face a wall he didn’t know was there. It presses itself against his back, arms snaking around his waist, an action that’s all too reminiscent of less-than-pleasant memories. But Joe doesn’t care at the moment, can’t focus on that when he’s too preoccupied with the feeling of the double’s erection against his body and the clinking of his belt as it’s undone.

His clothes are quickly pulled out of the way, and the double wastes no time in wrapping its fingers around the base of Joe’s cock and pumping it. With its other hand, it shoves three fingers into Joe’s mouth, and he sucks on them greedily, moaning around the obstruction. The double forces its appendages in further, causing Joe to open his mouth wider to accommodate as drool dribbles out the side of his mouth and down his chin.

As suddenly as they had found their way into his mouth, the fingers are removed without preamble. The double presses two of them into Joe, the sensation both familiar and strange. Familiar, from it being his own fingers, and the action something that he’s used to doing himself. But strange, because he isn’t in control of those fingers, and is instead using his own hands to brace himself against the smooth texture of the wall.

The double finds his prostate with surprising speed and dexterity, and Joe pushes against its hand in an attempt to receive more stimulation. The double obliges, adding the third finger and stretching Joe further. They work like that for a while, Joe rocking forward and back as the double smoothly slides its fingers in and out of him. But, as with everything it does, without forewarning both hands are taken off and out of him. Joe whines at the loss of sensation, bereft with wanting.

Joe turns his head to watch over his shoulder as the double steps back and takes its turn to undo its pants. It’s strange, to see his image handling itself as if from the perspective of another person, but it’s also incredibly erotic. The double looks up and notes Joe’s staring as its hands drift to the buttons of its shirt; it puts on a show as it undresses, allowing Joe to admire the sight of his own tan skin drawn across tight muscle. As the shirt drops to the ground, the double saunters over to retake its original position.

With a smirk drawn across its lips, the double leans in close to whisper in Joe’s ear. “The discontinuity between your self-hatred and narcissism is astounding.”

It’s right, of course. There’s something to be spoken of a man who can’t stand himself yet is just as eager to get fucked by his own visage.

“Just get on with it.” Joe mutters.

The double doesn’t need any more encouragement, and with a chuckle moves to line itself up behind Joe. The way its grip tightens on his hips is the only warning he gets before the double slams into him, and Joe can’t help but cry out at the suddenness and intensity of the action. It sets a rough pace, slamming into Joe before pulling nearly all the way out and repeating the cycle. Joe leans heavily against the wall, depending on it and the double to keep him upright, as his legs are shaking so much that they’re barely able to support him.

One hand of the double stays gripped on Joe’s hip while the other creeps under the hem of his shirt, sliding up across his abdomen to tease at a nipple. Joe moans, loud and obscene, and bites the back of his hand in an attempt to muffle himself. The double, meanwhile, is astoundingly quiet for all its talk. It only lets out breathy grunts and gasps, noises of exertion rather than pleasure.

“It’s sad, right? That the only person who cares about you is yourself.” The double picks up the conversation again, talking like it’s discussing the weather, not sounding winded in the slightest.

“Th-That’s not true,” Joe pants. There’s Alan and Sugane—Joe knows that they care… don’t they?

“Ooh, you’re right. It’s not true, because you don’t care about yourself. And _them_ , well, how much do they really know?” Its words are like daggers, each sharper and more deadly than the last. “They just see what’s on the outside. You put on such a good show of having it together that they don’t _really_ know what’s going on with you. You can’t tell anyone else because it would shift the burden onto them. You can’t let those two down—especially _that_ one—by having them know that you want to die.”

“I…”

“All your running around and playing hero… Let’s admit it, you just did it for yourself. To make _you_ feel good, like you were actually doing something with your life. You don’t actually believe in something as naïve as world peace, do you?”

“No, you’re— _ahh_ —you’re wrong.”

“I am? Then prove it.”

How the hell is he supposed to do that? He can barely think as it is. What does it expect him to do?

“I can’t…”

“Ha! Thought so.”

The double slows its pace, languidly thrusting into Joe like it has all the time in the world. Its fingers glide over his body, raising gooseflesh where they touch but offering him nothing else. It’s teasing him, using actions to toy with him just like its words, and Joe can’t stand it.

“P-Please…” Joe begs, his voice strained.

That seems to draw the double’s attention, and it leans closer and dips its head down. Its mouth finds Joe’s neck, sucking bruises onto his skin and grazing the sensitive flesh with its teeth. Joe groans, letting a hand fall from the wall to reach for his erection that was desperately in need of attention. But no action goes unnoticed by the double, and fast as lightning it locks his wrist in an iron grip; it maneuvers Joe’s arm back up to its former position, splaying his fingers out against the wall so that he can’t try to move. The message went without saying: _You’re not in control here, so don’t try that again_.

 “You know, this whole thing is pretty pathetic, huh? Getting fucked by yourself, I mean.” The double coos, its breath hot against the shell of Joe’s ear.

“Shut up.” Joe growls, squeezing his eyes shut.

 “You’d much rather it be someone else, right? One of those two? Maybe it’s Sugane?”

Joe flinches at the mention of Sugane, his nails digging painfully into the palm of his free hand. “Don’t say his name.”

“It’s just too bad that you don’t deserve him, even in your fantasies.”

Joe stops trying to argue, pressing his forehead against the wall in resignation. There’s no point in continuing, anyway, when everything it’s saying is correct. And why wouldn’t it be? It’s himself, and no one knows you better than you know yourself, as they say.

“Finally hit the right spot?” The double asks casually, leaning back and letting go of Joe’s wrist. “Ah, well, it’s boring if you don’t try to talk back. So, I say we finish this whole farce.”

It jumps back into its ministrations as if there hadn’t even been a lull, breaking Joe’s self-imposed silence by causing him to moan out again. The double works back up to its earlier breakneck pace, one hand teasing Joe’s chest and the other deftly stroking his cock with familiar motions. There’s a heat building in the pit of his stomach, and with the way that things are going, Joe doesn’t think he’s going to be able to last much longer. He wants release, needs it, begs for it as he meets the double’s thrusts and pushes himself into its hand. He’s close, close, _close_ just a little more and—

— _beepbeepbeepbeep_.

Joe gropes blindly at the bedside table, working by feel until his hand finds his cell phone to dismiss the alarm. He groans, turning onto his back and pushing his bangs away from his eyes, rubbing his face. His head feels muddled, like he barely slept at all. Then again, that feeling has become regular and expected nowadays.

He lies on his back a while longer, blinking up at the ceiling as the dream he had floats hazily in his mind. He can’t recall any specific details, just a few scattered bits and pieces here and there. But, it’s probably better that way. His dreams have been less-than-pleasant since the encounter with Berg-Katze, to say the least; they’ll often end up as ghoulish nightmares of blood and death, Joe gasping and out of breath as he wakes sweaty and shaken.

Finally building the will to move, Joe sits up and pulls aside the blankets, revealing the sticky mess on himself and the sheets.

“ _Shit_ ,” he hisses.

What is he? A sexually frustrated teenager? He’s too old to be ruining his sheets in the middle of the night like this.

Joe grabs tissues from the nightstand, wiping up what he can from his sheets and body. He then stands, strips the bed, and throws the sheets in a pile on the floor. He’ll deal with those later—first is getting himself cleaned up.

**Author's Note:**

> did u know its canon joe sleeps naked lol


End file.
